


Lestrade Gets A Text

by neoladyapollonia



Series: Texts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, Possessive!Sherlock, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoladyapollonia/pseuds/neoladyapollonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade gets a text from John, telling him to come over to 221B. What he finds isn't what he was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lestrade Gets A Text

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously I am not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I could say I am Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, or someone with any kind of affiliation with the BBC, but that would be a complete lie. I am just a fan who has been Sherlocked, Cumberbatched, and... I need a witty phrase to use for Martin because I am completely captivated by him as well. I'm more than a little bit in love with his John. <3 I do not make any money off of this. I just want to spread the love and get the plot chinchillas off of my back.
> 
> A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this. It has not been Brit-picked. I could ask my boyfriend to do that, but I am not going there... Yet. A few friends read it over, but it hasn't really been proofread or edited, besides what I've done myself. If you'd like to do that for me, that'd be awesome.
> 
> Edit: Sorry for probably sending this part to the top of line. I'm just making it part of a series.

DI Gregory Lestrade was attempting to unwind at The Feathers with a pint and a bite to eat after a tedious day at the Yard. No exciting murders or mysterious burglaries meant no Sherlock, which made his day slightly easier, yet slightly more difficult. Sadly, it also meant no Dr. John H. Watson.

He sighed, putting down the chip that had been en route to his mouth and picking up his pint again. He hadn’t been too sure of the good doctor at first, but the man had grown on him. Lestrade wasn’t sure what it was about John that had first attracted him; if it was that he was a soldier, that he genuinely cared about people, or that he could control Sherlock (somewhat). The more time he was able to spend with the other man, the more time he wanted to spend with him. And now that he had finally submitted divorce papers to his wife, he felt better about pursuing the man.

(His wife hadn’t been the least bit upset about the papers and had actually expressed a surprise that it had taken him, the great Detective Inspector, so long to figure out she was still having an affair. It still irked him that it had been Sherlock, whom had never even met his wife, that had worked it out instead of himself.)

He had been around John enough to know that while he wasn’t advertising his bisexuality, it was there nonetheless. Now how to let the army doctor know he was interested without being too obvious...

It was while this particular conundrum was occupying his brain that his phone signaled an incoming text. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered with a grin when he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the message was from John.

_Are you done with work?_

Greg couldn’t keep a smile away while he sent a reply: _Yeah. Just having a bite. Did you need something?_

He put his phone down on the bar next to his plate and attempted to swallow a bit more of his food, trying to pretend he wasn’t anxiously waiting to hear the chime. He didn’t have to wait long. He hurriedly grabbed it and read what his friend had sent him.

_If you don’t have anything planned for afters, come over._

He stared at the screen for a moment, wondering if he was reading too much into it when his phone chimed again.

_If you do, come anyway. There’s something I need you to see._

The DI blinked, heartbeat picking up. _You can’t just tell me?_ He didn’t even put his phone down this time as he waited for an answer.

_I could, but it would work better for you to see it in person._

He shook his head. He was reading too much into this. It was probably just another of Sherlock’s ridiculous experiments...

 _I’ll be there in 25._ God, he was a sucker. He put his head on his forearm and silently berated himself.

He perked up when he got another message. He moved his head just far enough to read it and almost fell off of his stool.

_The door will be unlocked. Come up to the sitting room. Don’t make a single noise. I want it to be a surprise when you arrive. I’ll be waiting._

Lestrade pulled his wallet out and flung some pound notes on the bar before running out the door to the St. James Park Underground Station.

  


*********

When the DI finally arrived at 221 B Baker Street, he gently tried the knob, excitement flooding him as it turned in his grasp. He walked in, carefully closing and locking the door behind him. He glanced at Mrs. Hudson’s door long enough to see that her lights were out before creeping up the stairs, taking his time to ensure his silence. When he made it to door of John and Sherlock’s flat, he took a deep breath, then two more before he quietly let himself in.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he knew it wasn’t the sight that currently met his eyes.

Captain John Watson, former soldier in Her Majesty’s military, was bound, gagged, blindfolded, and naked, draped over the arm of the sofa, facing the door. Sherlock Holmes was kneeling behind him, moving forward and backward slowly, obviously fucking the other man.

As the consulting detective noticed Greg standing there, he draped himself over John’s back and removed the gag.

“Go ahead, John. You can make noise now. I want you to make noise,” he whispered, deep baritone just loud enough to reach the door.

“Oh God. Sherlock...Please. I can’t...” the doctor stammered out, completely oblivious to their audience.

“Please what, John? You know I won’t give you what you want unless you ask for it,” Sherlock prompted, continuing his slow pace. 

The bound man tried to pull in enough air to breathe properly so he could answer. “I need you to fuck me harder. Please fuck me harder. I need more than this to come.”

Lestrade’s pulse picked up and he struggled to keep his breathing regulated at the smaller man’s words.

Sherlock tutted. “Now John, I think we both know you can orgasm perfectly well from a slow, thorough fucking such as this,” he purred.

John’s voice broke on a sob. “Please Sherlock, please! I can’t...I don’t want to come like this,” he gasped.

“Why not?” the infuriating man asked as he licked John’s ear. Lestrade forced himself to suppress a gasp.

“It-“ the doctor suddenly moaned before continuing his sentence. “It’s too intense. Please!” he begged.

“Why?”

“Wha?” John licked his lips, mind trying to race. “Why what?”

“Why should I do as you wish, John? Why should I give you the fucking you want?” Sherlock asked as he stopped moving all together.

John took several deep breaths as he tried to pull himself together enough to respond. “Because...because you said that you would take care of me, if I were yours.”

Sherlock kissed the back of the tanned neck before him. “And are you, John? Are you mine?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m yours, Sherlock! I’ve told you so many times, why won’t you believe me? Don’t you know it already?” the ex-soldier asked as he struggled to move himself enough to push back against the taller man, trying to force him to move.

Sherlock ran his teeth over the bullet wound on John’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, I believe you,” he breathed. “And I think, now, that all the necessary people know you are mine.” He locked gazes with the DI and suddenly Greg knew. John hadn’t been the one to send those texts. It had been Sherlock. This is what Sherlock had said he had to see, more than he had to be told. John could never be his. He already belonged to someone else.

Sherlock pulled his torso back upright and grabbing John’s hips, began to give the older man the fucking he had been asking for. As John began moaning and shouting in ecstasy, Greg practically ran back down the stairs, not caring as much this time for the noise he made.

  


*********

A few hours later, after many beers, Lestrade was able to see what Sherlock had intended. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Greg’s feelings, but more than that, he didn’t want John to feel guilty about having to turn him down if he did hit on the other man. Sherlock didn’t want crime scenes to be awkward for John and thus make him less likely to go. Sherlock needed John with him, Greg could see that, had been able to see that for a while now. So Holmes had set up a scenario that would not leave a single doubt in Greg’s mind that he had no chance with John, without John having to tell him so himself.

In a way, it made Lestrade realize not only how strongly Sherlock felt for John, but also how he felt towards Greg. He figured crime scenes would still be awkward for him for a while, remembering how he had seen Sherlock and John going at it, but he also wouldn’t embarrass himself trying to woo the army doctor. In a perverse way, he thought he should thank the lanky git, though he would never do that. The prat was already smug enough as it was. And he had gotten the chance to see John in such a state.

He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, hand not around a beer bottle sliding from its spot on his stomach down to his crotch. He’d at least got some wank fantasy material out of this whole blasted situation. He hmmed and closed his eyes as he got a good grip on his cock, his mind replaying the beautiful sounds of John begging.

  


*********

John was curled up in Sherlock’s bed with a cuppa and some biscuits when something suddenly occurred to him. He didn’t want to think it meant anything, but he knew the other man well enough to not let this niggling sensation be ignored.

“Sherlock!” he called, waiting for the lanky man to come to him.

It took less than five seconds. “Yes, John? Did you need anything else?”

John smiled. The genius could only be buggered to do something for his lover after one of their sessions, but he did take the responsibility seriously.

“Why did you say that earlier? That everyone who needed to know I was yours knew now?”

Sherlock blinked. 

To anyone else, it would have just been a not entirely conscious movement that everyone did. John knew better. He hadn’t survived living with this man for as long as he had without learning how to read him as well as possible.

“Sherlock,” the former soldier prompted, not liking the feeling that was rising in his chest.

His lover turned and exited the room, not saying a word.

“Sherlock!”

**Author's Note:**

> I am anal enough that I did go look up pubs near NSY & did actually use the London Journey Planner to see how long it would take to get from the nearest station to the NSY to the nearest station to 221B Baker Street at the time of day I figured a DI would get off of work on a regular day. I actually do work in law enforcement & work with a few detectives (in America), so I'm not completely ignorant as to a detective's work schedule. (I work at a very small station though, so it's likely to be a bit different in a metropolitan area.) I also took into account that Lestrade ran from The Feathers to the station.  
> Note for July 3, 2012: I went to London & actually ate lunch in The Feathers!!!!! It was good food. The place was pretty nice in a shabby chic worn way. I loved it. And that station he ran to is RIGHT across the street from NSY. I was so excited to walk around there. And of course I went to Baker Street too. We did go straight from Baker Street to The Feathers, but I failed to time it... Anyway it was awesome! ^_^
> 
> Also, I am planning to write a sequel to this for my friend's birthday. She felt bad for Lestrade, so I'm going to try to make her happy. ^_~


End file.
